


If I’m going down, then I’m going down good, the prettiest wretched whore you’ve ever seen.

by lia_bezdomny



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Dark Will, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, One Shot, smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lia_bezdomny/pseuds/lia_bezdomny
Summary: He was nearly done with his second bottle of vodka this week and it was only Wednesday. Half a year ago he would have been concerned about his increased alcohol intake but not anymore. You don’t really care about liver cirrhosis when you have been to hell and back.---Will is broken and out for revenge.





	If I’m going down, then I’m going down good, the prettiest wretched whore you’ve ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> This was something completely different when I started writing it three hours ago. And then it turned dark, then weird and then into smut. Kinda. Well, enjoy. 
> 
> AU is in the tags because it is set after Will's release but then not.

Will breathed in and out; trying to remember the ridiculous breathing exercises he learned in therapy.

“I own my thoughts; my thoughts don’t own me… Oh fuck this.” The cat sprung off the couch, startled by the vulgarity.

“Sorry, Gates.”

He mumbled and went into his kitchen. He was nearly done with his second bottle of vodka this week and it was only Wednesday. Half a year ago he would have been concerned about his increased alcohol intake but not anymore. You don’t really care about liver cirrhosis when you have been to hell and back.

“Am I really back from hell or just chilling in limbo?”. His phone vibrated, the caller ID said “Alana Bloom”.

“No, thank you. I don’t want to talk, I used up all my words, explaining that I am not a serial killer over and over again. To you, to Chilton and to Jack.”

When they finally believed him and his name was more or less cleaned, he had to undergo therapy for his mind and his Encephalitis, both treatments equally horrifying. After that he was broken, nothing more than an empty shell, no use to anyone around him and certainly not to the FBI. So he packed his bags and moved to New York. Alana made sure, that he was taken care of, since according to her “The FBI owed him”.

Will didn’t argue with her, collected his check and went off to early retirement. He couldn’t bear to pick up his dogs, so he left them at their new respective homes. It wasn’t his job to save anyone anymore. Not strays, not people. It was hard enough to keep himself from swallowing all his pills at once. The drink was finished, a very watery Golden Russian.

“Bottom’s up, you crazy bastard.” He toasted himself.

\---

 

The book store he worked at part time, was surprisingly packed, when he showed up. When he saw the reason, he was less impressed:

"Surviving the Beast, our encounter with Dr. Abel Gideon" by Freddie Lounds and Dr. Frederick Chilton was number one at the bestseller list and Will sincerly hoped that the didn't included a picture of him.

He still hid in the back, just to avoid any chance of being recognized.

As soon as the book was out of stock, the store quieted down and he could finally get back to work. He was about to reorganize the old classics, when someone quietly asked him:

“Do you have anything by Sylvia Plath?” Will looked down from the ladder and saw a pretty, young girl. 

_Black clothes, smeared eyeliner, cut off evening gloves to cover up scars, depression with a hint of another mental disorder._ His mind concluded.

“Aisle six,” _The suicide aisle, another goner_.

“Next to Virginia Woolf.” Sometimes he looked up the obituaries to see if he was right. About 89% of the time he was.

“Thanks.” He nodded and continued his stock taking.

 He took this job not for the money but for the company. Given his work mates where in there 20’s, his standards for stimulating conversation were pretty low these days. They didn’t know what he wanted there, but they

were friendly and try to include him out of pity for sure, but he didn’t care.

 

“Can I help you?” His co-worker's voice travelled.

It was Sandra, the aspiring actress. He saw her in a play and she really was decent. No Meryl or Judi but good enough to make it.

“Yes, I’m looking for someone. Mr. Chris Adams.” His whole body tensed as he recognised the voice.

“Oh he is down there.” “Thank you.” The footsteps came closer and then, the dreaded voice addressed him.

 

“Hello, _Chris_.” “Jack.” He said without turning around.

“I need to talk to you.” “Yeah? I have no such desire. Get out.”

“There has been…” “Another murder, I know. I didn’t do it, check my work schedule. Alibied up.”

 “Can we do this at another location?” Will turned around his face strained with a smile.

“Oh, you need my _help_? In that case, I’m all ears Jack. But you have to wait for my lunch break which is in about one hour. And since you are not buying anything, I have to ask you to leave.”

Nobody needed his gift of Empathy to read Jack’s expression. He was used to get his way, in any situation and now he was forced to listen to a little book salesman. Will was pleased with himself. Of course Jack couldn't

throw a fit right here and now, so he left.

 

“Who was that?” “Some guy who wants me to join a cult.” “A cult?” Sandra grinned.

“Yeah, he said I’m their messiah.” “You? You are the last person I would consider a saviour.” Will spread his arms to the side and looked up to the ceiling.

“He who casts the first stone…” “Get out, you lunatic.”

 

\---

 

“You are late.” Jack commented. “Stock taking took forever.”

Actually he switched his lunch break with Deacon, just to piss Jack off. Given the look on his face he was successful.

 

_He has to behave himself because he needs me for something, when all he wants to do is wring my neck. Priceless._

Will thought, once again pleased with the power he had over his former boss. It was juvenile but also quite entertaining.

“As you know there has been a murder.” “Happens.” “The Chesapeake Ripper is back.” His former boss searches for a reaction on his face which he couldn't find.

 

“Of course he is. Was that all?” “We need you back, Will.”

“I’m retired.” “You’re just saying no?”

“Yes.” “Will…”

“What? Think of all the innocent people? All these precious little tax payers, with there lovely little lives. Tragic.” The wheels in Jack's head begin to spin: _If mindgames don’t work anymore, maybe he would take a bargain._

 

“What would it take for you to come back for one last job?” “Give me an amnesty. No matter what happens, I can walk away, even if I take a knife and jam it into your chest, in a room full of people.” “You hate me that much?” Will smiles, something that he knew was unsettling to people, even at his more mentally stable times.

“Last time you pressured me into working for you, I was wrongfully accused of murder. I have no desire to kill you but trusting you, that is something entirely different. But I need an insurance. Give me that and you will get what you want. I will give you the Ripper.”

 

“What do you need besides that?” “Lecter.” Jack gritted his teeth.

“He doesn't work as a consultant for us anymore.” “Tell the good doctor, I want to see him. He'll be there.”

“Fine.”

 

He flew out to Virginia, as soon as he has dropped off Gates at Sandra's. She was delighted to take care of the cat and assured him, she would spoil him rotten, until he'd return.

There would be no return. Jack, Lecter, himself. Everything would end during this trip. No more games, no more uneasy alliances. The final curtain. Will grins and feels exited.

The first thing he did, after checking into is hotel room was to empty at least three small bottles of bourbon in about three minutes. That dulled his exitement a little bit and maybe would buy him at least a few hours of sleep.

 

\--- 

 

“Hello Will.” Of course Hannibal showed up at his hotel room first thing in the morning. Will vacated the door and the doctor took a seat at the breakfast table. Will had ordered some standard hotel food and Hannibal eyed it dubiously.

“You shouldn’t eat that, Will. It is bad…” Will grabbed the knife in front of him and rammed it into the table.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m fucking tired of people telling me what to do.” “You are very rude, Will.” The underline threat made him want to laugh out loud.

“Yeah? Then eat me, Hannibal. Go on, dinner is ready.” He ripped his collar open, baring his neck to him.

“Don't tempt me.” “Tempting? Oh please, I’m past that.” Hannibal grabbed him by the shoulders turned him around and bit into his neck. When Will felt his tongue carefully licking over the wound, he knew that he had won.

 

Since they couldn't be bothered to take it to the bedroom, Hannibal and Will woke up on the carpet, stained with blood. Will was pleased, that only some of it was his. He tried to stretch but Hannibal's hands were wrapped around his body like a vice so, he gave up after a couple of seconds. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment a little longer but of course, Hannibal had to speak.

“Why didn’t you turn me in?” Will laughed but there was no amusement in his voice. “Because nobody would believe me. Even if you are acquitted, the whole _being locked up in an asylum thing_ doesn’t give your claims any substance. Besides,” He freed one hand and brushed it through Hannibal's hair.

“You are the thorn in Jack Crawford’s side. The one thing that gets to him, he is obsessed with you – well, the Ripper - and we all know, what obsession does to people, they go mad. And I want to see him go down.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow but said nothing, so Will continued:

“I asked myself all the time how you could do this to me.” “And your conclusion was?” “Because you could.” “Interesting.” Hannibal captured Will's hand and planted a kiss on it.

  
“You said you were _Past that_. Past what?” “Fearing for my life.”

“I never threatened your life, my dear Will.” “No, you only wanted to destroy it.”

“I wanted to set you free.” “Mission accomplished, doctor.” Before any further discussion could occur, they get distracted by the other one's hands again and this time actually managed to end up on Will's bed.

 

\---

 

“What do you want from me?” Hannibal had managed to leave the hotel room and come back with an assortment of food he deemed worthy for consumption.

“I want you to destroy Jack.” “So this is about revenge?” Will rolled his eyes.

“Yes, the plan was to seduce you and then pull you over to my side... Give me some credit, Hannibal. I really wanted to discuss everything in a sensible manner. But then I was distracted. And then again. I'm only human.” Hannibal seemed to be satisfied with that answer.

“And how do you propose I do this?” “By amping up the Ripper's antics, obviously. Be naughty, make the old dog mad. I want him to enjoy the view from my old cell.” Hannibal leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on him.

“And what would I get in return?” A smile curved Will's lips as he got up from his seat and straddled Hannibal's lap.

“My everlasting gratitude, of course.” He dragged his tongue over the revenge bite he gave Hannibal on the opposite side of his neck.

“You would give yourself completely to me?” His hands caressed Will's back and they looked into each others eyes.

“That depends. Would that be enough for you? Having me without a fight, no chase, no games to play?” The answer came, accompanied with another bite to Will's shoulder.

“My dear Will, with you there will always be a fight. And I'm looking forward to every single one of them.”

 


End file.
